Haven
by Politelycynical
Summary: ONESHOT: He didn't know that she had been reduced to living in a Women's Shelter. And he sure as hell was going to fix it. Warning: Mature Content.


WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD.

Haven

By: politelycyncial

* * *

"And how do you _know_ the ice caps are melting? Have you measured them?" Mac said loudly outside.

Charlie quickly punched in the combination of buttons that he knew opened the register. He hit the first and third green keys, then the big orange one.

He winced as the registered _chinged_ loudly.

"No, man. It's science. Why don't you try watching the news every once in a while?" Dennis yelled back at him. "It's the o-zone man. The 80's destroyed the o-zone."

Charlie emptied the drawers and shoved the small amount of money into his jeans. Then he ducked.

"That's bullshit!" Mac said loudly as he shoved the door open to Paddy's.

Dennis was fired up, as usual. "It is not bullshit! There are facts and findings. And it's global warming!"

"Science bitches are lying about globa—"

"Al Gore! Al Gore said that—"

"Let's look it up, bitch." Mac stomped towards the office.

" _I'm not the bitch!_ " Dennis shrieked, "You're the bitch!" Dennis followed after him.

Charlie poked his head up from behind the bar before sneaking out the front door. He pulled Dee's keys out of his pocket and unlocked her stolen car. He sighed when he got into the car and took a moment to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. He added the bar's earnings from the night before to the plastic bag of change that he had scrounged up from his couch cushions, the ATM withdrawals he had made with Frank's various debit cards, and all the cash he had lifted from Dee's apartment when he was borrowing (stealing) her car. Then he pulled his wallet out and added all that he had ($28.00) except for a five dollar bill. He doubted he would get his paycheck for a while, so he would probably be living solely on tips for the next few weeks.

He tucked the money up under his tee shirt and used a roll of duct tape to secure it to his chest before starting the ignition and driving towards one of the poorer parts of town (that honestly wasn't too far from his own apartment). He hoped he had enough.

The shelter wasn't much. It was run by the church, and they were doing what they could. Government subsidies barely kept the power on, and relying on a community that hadn't thrived in years for donations didn't provide many luxuries.

Charlie hadn't ever lived in a shelter. His mother had always made sure of that in his youth. And through a series of schemes and close calls, it was something he had avoided in his adulthood. Sure, he had slept in a dumpster before, and a box on a few low nights, but he had never resorted to a shelter. Besides, in Charlie's eyes, sleeping in a box was almost like camping. Pioneers and rugged cowboys camped, and he could too.

He parked Dee's cheap car and zipped his hoodie up to hide the bulge of the ziplock bag that was taped to his chest.

Outside of the Women's Shelter, children were playing hopscotch while they waited for their mothers to return from work. Some women sat on the stoop, and from the looks of it, their shifts started later in the night in the Red Light District. The smudged mascara and flimsy, revealing clothing were tell-tale signs of prostitution. For a moment, Charlie thought of his own mother- Just doing what she had to do to get by in his youth.

He shook his head and trudged up the stairs into the broken down building.

Some women regarded him angrily. Others looked at him warily with bruised faces—victims of domestic abuse. One of the church volunteers sat at a chipped desk, an oscillating fan pointed directly at her, ruffling her hair every other second. She looked bored as she tapped on her smartphone.

"Excuse me, Miss," Charlie said politely. "I'm looking for—"

A car backfired outside.

She huffed and scanned through her directory. "Third floor. Room 312. The stairs are down the hall." She tilter her head towards the hall before going back to her phone.

"Thanks," Charlie called out over his shoulder.

He eased his way through the crowded hallway, trying his best not to disturb anyone. He cast awkward smiles at anyone who looked particularly wary of him.

He let out of a sigh of relief when he emerged from the stairwell and started counting the rooms of the slightly less crowded hallway.

312.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

She looked surprised to see him—a feat in and of itself. Surely she was used to seeing him in unexpected places by now.

"Charlie, what the hell?" She growled at him. "How did you find me?"

"Look, I'm not here to bother you." Charlie ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"You tried to throw me out of a fucking window." She hissed at him. He could feel the vibe in the hallway change as other women heard her. Shit. This could get ugly.

"I can explain—Can I come in a second?" He pleaded with her.

"No. No, you cannot." She leaned against the door jam, glaring at him.

"I'm sorry about the window, okay? I thought it was a portal to 2006. Anyone could have made that mistake." He explained.

"Your apology is not accepted."

"I didn't really think it would be. Look, can you let me in? I need to talk to you- privately. I promise I'll be out of here as soon as possible."

"No, you can fucking leave. That's what you can do." She was no-nonsense with him as always.

"It's important."

"How many fucking times have I told you, Charlie? I'm not interested in you." The Waitress growled.

"Mary," he started firmly. Her eyes widened. "This is not about me and you, I promise."

She looked at him suspiciously for a second before stepping away from the door and crossing her arms. "Come in." She didn't meet his eyes.

Charlie was happy to get out of the hostile environment of the hallway. Sure, Mary was never nice to him, but the women in the shelter looked like they wanted to rip him apart. He wondered if they thought he was Mary's ex-boyfriend or abusive husband. He hoped they didn't think that.

She shut the door behind him.

Her room was small. It was about the size of a freshman college dorm or a jail cell. But it had all of the necessities- a bed, a small dresser, and a small sink with a mirror. There was a wooden chair that she had piled some of her clothes into. And it was clean- so as far as he was concerned it was a step up from his own apartment.

He turned toward her. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail. She wearing a thin tank top and shorts. He averted his eyes. She said nothing. She just watching him with narrowed eyes and waited impatiently as he shuffled around nervously. The room smelled like her. It made him wonder how long she had been living here.

"I didn't know." Charlie explained, biting his lip.

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"I didn't know you were living in a shelter," he said quietly. "I guess I haven't been paying attention as much as I used to." He felt guilty.

She looked bewildered. "That's a good thing, Charlie," she growled. "You're not supposed to know everything about me—because we're not involved."

"I know." He said quickly. "I know you don't like me knowing things about you that I shouldn't, and I know that you don't even want me in your life at all. I accepted that a long time ago—but it doesn't change the way that I—" His voice waivered as her glare intensified. Her fists were clenched at her sides. "-the way the I feel about you." He finished.

"My god, Charlie—" She started.

He interrupted her before she could start yelling. "I feel like I should have known. I've known every detail about you for years- but for some reason I didn't know that you had lost your home. I've been trying to be better about not following you as much since you eased up on the restraining order." He explained. "I didn't want you to reinstate it."

Her features softened slightly, and her hands relaxed at her sides. That was a good sign.

He unzipped his hoodie and lifted the front of his t-shirt up.

"Woah! Woah- what the hell do you think you're doing?" She looked like she was going to make a mad dash for the door.

Then she saw the bag.

"Is… is that a bag of money?"

Charlie smiled at her and started pulling at the duct tape. "Yeah- yeowch!" It yanked some of his hair out.

She was stunned.

"It's about fourteen hundred. I don't know how much you have saved up from living here, but I thought with this, maybe you could get your own place again." He extended it toward her and lowered his t-shirt back down over his stomach.

"Why?" She whispered, her eyes glistening. She looked tired- more tired than he could ever remember seeing her. The fiery fury that normally emanated from her when he was around has been extinguished.

"You don't belong in a place like this, Mary." He explained as if it were obvious. "You deserve more than this."

A single tear ran down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. "I can't take your money, Charlie."

He shook his head and smiled. "The technicalities of whether or not this is _my money_ is kind of a gray area."

"I won't be able to pay you back." She said quietly.

"I don't want you to." He held it out to her again. "There's no strings. It's just yours now. And you don't owe me anything for it; nothing has to change between us."

She took it out of his hands and looked like she might break down. He hadn't seen her this fragile since Dennis had broken her heart and drove her into the arms of Frank. Now that he thought about it, he had been the one to break her heart that day—He had orchestrated all of the events that led up to her sleeping with Frank. His chest ached.

She sat down on her twin sized mattress quietly, staring at the bag of crumpled up dollars and large assortment of coins. "Charlie," she started, her shoulders shaking. "You don't know what this means to me."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I just want you to be happy, Mary."

The room was tense again as she watched him. "As promised, I'm going to go." Charlie said, zipping his hoodie back up. He shuffled toward the door. "Don't let anyone steal it, okay?" He said quietly. "I mostly stole it from Frank, and after this I'll never be able to get that much out of him again."

She nodded.

He guessed that was his cue to leave, but just as he was reaching for the doorknob, he heard her voice.

"Charlie, wait—" She sounded panicked and unsure. As he turned back towards her, she collided into his arms and hugged him tightly around the middle. For a second, he held his arms open awkwardly. It seemed wrong to touch her after being told so many times to leave her alone. But she was crying openly now, sobs wracking her body as she whispered incoherently against his shoulder. He thanked the stars that he had showered that morning and hadn't taken the sewer route to get here (even though it would have been faster than Philly traffic).

He shushed her cries and rubbed her back in a way that he hoped would sooth her. "It's okay, Mary," he whispered into her hair.

Eventually she had quietened down, and for a brief few moments of bliss, she continued to hug him, and he continued to hold her.

When she finally stepped back, he ignored the warning bells in his head and wiped a stray tear off of her cheek.

A moment later, her eyes darted down to his lips. She was leaning forward when he quickly said, "You don't have to—Please don't think that-"

"Shut up." She hissed at him. And then his back was pressed against the door, and her lips were on his. Her kiss was more moist than most- he supposed that was from the crying. But every part of him was soaring. His chest was painfully tight and his stomach was doing flips as her soft lips brushed against his. His hands were on her hips- his thumbs sliding against the small amount of exposed skin at her midriff. She slid her tongue into his mouth, and he felt his knees go weak.

He had to stay in control. He kept his hands firmly on her hips. He couldn't lose his head—not now. He had to keep his cool.

Then a second later, she had bit gently at his lips and before he knew it, he had handful of her ass and his fingertips were brushing the bottom hem of her shorts—and then she hummed loudly into his mouth and oh god—it was so wonderful. Had anything ever been this wonderful in his entire life?

Her hands were exploring, he was dizzy from her, and her smell was all over him. She was perfect—so fucking perfect, and she was in his arms _finally._ He was hard against her—he had been from the moment her tongue had brushed against his. Fuck- he hoped he didn't ruin this.

When she pulled away from him, he was disappointed. He was leaning against her door, taking deep breaths. He was much more unkempt than he had been upon arrival. His hair was sticking up in all directions, his hoodie was unzipped, and his shirt was shoved up, exposing the lower portions of his stomach. He was further surprised to see that the top button of his jeans was undone- something that he had completely missed somehow.

There was a glint in her eyes that he had never seen before. He gulped visibly. He licked his lips as she approached him again. He heard the door click.

She had locked it.

His brain stuttered, trying to comprehend what was happening.

She pulled him away from the door. "Lay on my bed, Charlie." She ordered, shoving him in the direction of the mattress.

"A-Are you sur-" He stammered before stopping himself. "Nevermind, okay."

He tripped several times on absolutely nothing as he rushed towards her twin-bed. He kicked his shoes off into the floor and yanked his hoodie off of his shoulders on the way, letting it fall wherever the fuck it wanted to. He pushed the discarded bag of money to the floor. In the clamor, he heard the delicious sound of a zipper behind him. And then she was on top of him, shoving him flat on his back. His hands found the generous curve of her ass again—and oh god, she had taken her shorts off. He was touching the delicate fabric of her panties—and why the fuck did he not take his pants off? Stupid move, Charlie. That was a stupid fucking move.

But she had realized the same thing, and was unzipping his jeans for him and pushing them down his hips. He quickly lifted his hips up, both of them yanking at his jeans in a frenzy. When he had kicked them off of the end of the bed, he pulled her towards him gain. He groaned loudly into her mouth when her hips found his. The heat of her through his briefs made him jerk roughly against her. He swallowed her responding whimper as their mouths became a flurry of teeth and tongues.

She rocked her hips quickly against his, their undergarments creating a delectable friction that had him seeing stars. She was grinding down against him harshly, and she was gasping into his mouth. And oh fuck- he slid one of his hands that was on her ass towards her center and a second later he had two of his fingers around the barrier of her panties and inside of her warm, wet heat.

"Charlie," she cried out into his mouth—mindless need pulled her in further as she rutted shamelessly against him, rocking her hips back to drive his fingers deeper.

It was his name and the feel of her sweet cunt that did him in. He saw white light and groaned into her mouth as he came. She pulled away from his kisses like she was burned. He took a quick breath before flipping them over swiftly.

"Don't look so offended," he said huskily. "I'm not done."

"Then get to work." She said, eyebrow raised.

This was the kind of Charlie Work he could get behind. He slid her panties down her hips as she bit her lip impatiently. He started to kiss her lower stomach, but was quickly growled at. "Charlie—I swear to _oh fuck—oh fuck"_ she hissed as he tossed her thighs over his shoulder and thrust his tongue into her cunt. My god, she was sweet. Her hands were in his hair, and her hips were grinding against his face. He was eating her out enthusiastically, occasionally nipping gently at her lips before slurping obscenely.

She cried out in frustration when he removed his tongue from her depths, but that cry shifted into a breathy moan when he sucked hard on her clit and shoved two fingers into her, swirling along her walls, curling them back just so.

"Don't stop," she ordered, "Oh _please-_ fuck. Charlie- harder—fuck me harder." He complied, adding a third finger, and _sucking_ and _licking_ and _swirling._ And then he was humming a note against her—and her hips were coming up off the bed as she shoved herself even closer to him. She was yanking roughly on his hair, and her thighs were locked behind his head. He glanced up at her muffled cry to see that she had buried her face in the pillow as she came and came and came.

And then she was slowly melting, her thighs releasing him.

"Mmmmmm." She hummed as he sat back on his knees at the foot of her bed. Her pussy was red and swollen, her legs were lazily tilted to the side. Charlie wiped his face on the inside of his shirt as his eyes tried to memorize every detail.

When she finally cracked her eyes open to look at him, he had already gotten nervous again. This is when she would kick him out. She would make him swear not to tell anyone what happened, or she would accuse him of trying to trick her. And he was feel ashamed. He shouldn't have touched her. He should have known better. This is when this whole unbelievable day would turn to shit. He wondered if he should just get his stuff and leave without saying a word—maybe that would be better for her.

But she smiled at him and then he heard "C'mere". He crawled hesitantly up the bed and settled down beside her.

She laid her head gently on his chest. She looked peaceful, but his mind was whirling. What did this mean? Did she want him? Were they together now? Or was it a one-time thing? Could he handle it if it was just a one-time thing to her? Where would he go from here? Could he ever look at her the same way again now that he had kissed her and touched her and held her?

How would he just _forget all of this?_

He didn't know if he could.

She was his haven from his fucked up life. She was the embodiment of his hope- his dreams for the future. He wanted a life with her and a home with her and oh god-

This would kill him. If she rejected him now, it would destroy him. What had he done?

He didn't know what to say, and the room was so quiet other than her satisfied breathing. He needed to fill the dead air with something- anything-

"I'm so in love with you, Mary." His eyes were watering, but he didn't care. "Please don't hurt me. Please don't tell me this meant n-nothing," His voice was cracking. "Because it meant _everything_. Oh god- please." He begged her as quick, panicked breaths poured out.

 _Everything._

 _She was everything._

He had his eyes closed tightly because he couldn't handle seeing the look of scorn that surely graced her features. But her hands were on the side of his face, and she was shushing his pleas.

When his panic had passed, she whispered quietly to him "Do you really love me?"

His eyes widened, "Of course."

"I've been lied to before… A lot of times, actually."

"I've loved you for fifteen years, Mary. I don't see that fact changing anything soon… especially not now."

She rolled over to face him on the small bed. "Okay."

He felt confused. _What?_

"What?" He asked. "What do you mean 'okay'?"

"Let's try."

"Try… what?" His brain felt fuzzy.

"Try being together." She explained, looking vulnerable. She sighed, sitting up in bed. "I never thought that anyone _could_ love me. I'm fucked up—I know. I don't have friends—I don't really have a family. And everyone that I've ever tried to love—they've hurt me. But you, Charlie. You are so different. Because I have treated you like shit for years, and you've always looked out for me."

He couldn't breathe.

"And sometimes, you have made some fucking horrible decisions… but… If you can promise me that you won't do anything crazy, then I want to see where this leads. Because… maybe I could have been happy all this time if I had just given you a chance." She took a deep breath. "And I want to be happy."

Charlie smiled.

"Let's try."

* * *

A/N: I was trying to write something sweet… and then it escalated. As soon as they touched, I was like "… it's happening." Also, I really liked making Charlie's knees go weak. He swoons when she kisses him and I love that.


End file.
